


Not My Color

by Bloodyscrollox



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodyscrollox/pseuds/Bloodyscrollox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindsay thinks Michael would look delightful with a bit of makeup on. Michael disagrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not My Color

Michael doesn’t like the look on Lindsay’s face. Bright and cheeky, with a predatory edge that can only mean trouble. There’s also the tube of lipstick she’s holding out.

‘That’s nice, you gonna wear that for work or what?’ he says.

Maybe she’s going to wear it while she makes him go to a shitty play or something, his brain supplies desperately. But when does Lindsay ever go to plays?

‘Oh Michael,’ she says, her tone falsely apologetic and patronising. ‘This isn’t my color.’

Shit. God _damn_  it Lindsay.

‘Uh uh. I’m not wearing lipstick.’ He says firmly. She gives him a mock pout, but she’s teasing him. They both know damn well he  _will_  be wearing it.

‘But Michael, I picked it out especially.’

‘I don’t look good in drag, Linds. We’ve established this. Burnie had to rewrite that whole sketch because I looked so crappy in a dress.’

‘It’s hardly drag, just a bit of color.’

Lindsay’s been slowly advancing on him as she speaks, and Michael suddenly finds himself pressed up against a wall. God _dammit_.

‘Just trust me,’ she purrs, a wide grin on her face that Michael doesn’t trust at all. ‘You’re going to look  _beautiful_.’

*

It takes a good few minutes to get the damn stuff on. Michael’s struggling only succeeds in getting the makeup smeared over his face. What follows is a string of  _filthy_  curses as Lindsay rubs it off with her thumb, making no effort to be gentle. But finally, following a reapplication when Michael utilises the improper lip blot technique, Lindsay looks satisfied. She steers him over to their bedroom mirror, and Michael stares at his reflection.

He looks fucking stupid. He can at least take some comfort in being right about that. The lipstick is a deep, clownish red that clings wetly to his lips. His own eyes are glaring daggers at himself through the mirror, and with the recently shaved head, he looks like the bastard child of Jessica Rabbit and Jason Statham.

‘What do you think?’ asks Lindsay, who seems unaccountably happy with her own handiwork.

‘I look like a fucking prostitute. You couldn’t at least have picked out a subtler color?’ She cocks her head, considering this.

‘Next time.’ She offers. Michael splutters indignantly.

‘Fucking  _next time_?’ He roars as his fiancé giggles remorselessly. She turns to him then, and slowly reaches up a hand to cup his face. Reluctantly, he nestles his cheek into her palm. Engaged or not, he’ll always crave her attention. Her thumb slides under his chin, and she squeezes her fingers so that his lips pucker out.

‘Oh yeah. That’s hot.’ She whispers. Michael wrenches his head out of her grasp.

‘Okay, you had your fun. Let me take this shit off.’

‘That wasn’t the fun part, Michael.’ She says, grinning innocuously. ‘Because I think I  _would_  like to see it on me.’ Michael frowns, his gaze falling on the discarded lipstick tube on the dresser. When he looks back, her face is inches from his, her eyes clearly focused on his mouth. ‘Just not on my lips.’

With a gentle push on his shoulder, Michael drops to his knees with a thud on the carpet. Ah. He watches silently while she shucks off her jeans and panties, then hooks her leg over his shoulder. His eyes flick up to hers and he places a deep, deliberate kiss on the inside of her thigh, pulling back to see the red imprint of his lips contrasting beautifully with her pale skin.

So she was wrong. It looks  _much_  better on her.


End file.
